by Garon Whited
The priests stood staring at me for several seconds. The one in the purple-blue robe moved first, tugging on his companions and silently urging them out the door.
“Good fortune on your journey, Holy Ones,” I called after them. “The road is long and dangerous! There is no telling what perils may befall you in the wilderness.”
They hurried out—dignified but rapid—hustling their younger companion along. I urged all the guards to follow them out. The door shut and I slumped back down onto the seat, painfully. It needed padding, but I didn’t have time beforehand. It’s what I get for hurrying.
Leisel cleared her throat.
“Hmm?”
“The lights…?”
“Oh.” I clicked on all the lights and blinked, resisting the urge to sneeze. An amused Firebrand went out and I sheathed it.
“So, we’re joining the kustoni?” she asked.
“Not if I can avoid it. Although, now you mention it, we could probably move a thousand miles west and establish a nice village. After trading a few raids with the neighbors, I’m pretty sure they’d choose to leave us alone. On the other hand, if we’re clearly wealthy in terms of steel and other advanced technology, they might never give up. I don’t think they’re motivated by greed any more than anyone else, but—”
“I wasn’t serious.”
“Oh. Sorry.”
She stood up and moved to the side of the throne. She tapped my arm and I moved so she could throw a hip over the side.
“You’ve angered Sarcana, killed Tobar and probably angered the Ak’anthai, and now you’re picking a fight with the Temple. If you want to die, did you have to lure a lot of people out here to go with you?”
“I’m not sure if you’re serious.”
“Neither am I,” she admitted.
“That hurts.”
“I’m your vidat, not your milette. It’s not my job to tell you only what you want to hear. Why antagonize the triskarte?”
“I don’t like priests.”
“I gathered. Why not?”
“Because… hmm. Give me a minute to put it into words.”
I thought about it. Aside from the obvious answer—I’m an undead monster who tends to sublimate when exposed to hostile celestial forces—what did I have against priests?
“I think,” I began, slowly, “it’s got something to do with organized religion.”
“Go on.”
“I just feel the gods can talk to anyone they choose, not just a bunch of clergy. If a god won’t talk to you because you’re not special enough, do you need to be worshiping it?”
“Now you’re getting blasphemous.”
“Heretical,” I corrected. “No, wait. Maybe it is blasphemy. Sometimes I’m fuzzy on the difference. Look, I’m sorry. We haven’t had a lot of discussion on religion, and maybe we’re not going to see eye to eye on it.”
“I’m not particularly faithful,” she assured me. “Everyone has a job they do, and the priests’ job is to talk to the gods. Maybe some people are in the wrong jobs—there are lousy farmers and lousy rulers, why not lousy priests? Overall, it works, and it’s the way things are.”
“And it may be the right thing for the Empire,” I agreed, grudgingly. “Thing is, I believe the gods only have priests because the gods don’t want to waste their time and energy on piddly little things. If all someone needs is a willing ear and some encouragement, fine. A priest can be tasked with that. But when you start getting a theological organization big enough and powerful enough—in worldly terms—to dictate to the worldly authorities, it’s grown too big. If the gods want the kings and princes of the world to do things a certain way, it shouldn’t be up to the priests. There’s too much chance of some priest being unworthy, or misinterpreting, or miscommunicating, or something. If the gods can make their presence felt and their will clear, they should be able to hear those who worship them. Whether it’s from a ruler or a peasant, prayer shouldn’t have to go through a mortal intermediary.”
“So, you object to priests and temples, but not to the gods?”
“Priests and temples are fine, if that’s what the gods want. I question where the authority of a priest or temple ends. If I’m not talking directly to god, I have to take a priest’s word for it?”
“A priest would not risk the wrath of the divine in a lie.”
“You haven’t met as many priests as I have, nor as many gods.”
“Perhaps not,” she allowed, uncomfortably. “Maybe you’re right. The sacrifice didn’t have anything to say to you.”
“The sacrifice?” I repeated.
“The one in white.”
“How was he a sacrifice?”
“Uh… I’m not sure. I’m not a priest,” she admitted.
“Thank the gods for that. Still, try and tell me what you know of this ‘sacrifice,’ please.”
“Sometimes, something terrible has to be challenged, or killed, or whatever it is with terrible things. The priests sanctify someone as a vessel of divine power. The sanctified sacrifice is then sent to face whatever it is and destroy it by the power of the gods, or something. Maybe it’s a monster, but sometimes it’s a drought, or a plague, or something. The monster kills the sanctified sacrifice and is destroyed, itself. For a drought or a plague, they kill the sacrifice themselves. I suppose they could kill the sacrifice themselves to destroy a monster, but I gather the demon-thing usually kills the vessel.”
Inwardly, I admitted it could work. Human sacrifice is one of the most powerful ways to immediately energize a god. Using that method, with the proper mental focus, it might be like casting a spell. A powerful spell, at that. If the person being sacrificed was willing—or conditioned—to be in the proper mental state, focused on the result, it could be extremely powerful.
Privately, I was glad we had this audience during the day.
“So, they prepared one for me?” I asked, aloud.
“I think they were checking to see if you were… I don’t know. Something dark and terrible needing to be destroyed by the gods. Or, no, they had to suspect. I don’t think they would do this just as a test.”
“And their holy vessel of divine retribution didn’t see me that way?”
“I’m not sure how it works. I suppose not.”
“Yay for me.”
“Yes. Yay for you.”
We sat there in silence for a bit while I considered where I needed to go, what I needed to do.
“May I ask a personal question?” Leisel asked.
“What’s more personal than religion? Sex?”
“I mean about you.”
“Shoot.”
“I’ve seen some strange things in my time,” she began. “Some of them stranger than your, what do you call it, transformation. Now I have to ask… or maybe I need to be reassured again.”
“On what? Whether or not I’m a demon?”
“I’m pretty sure you’re not,” she agreed. “There would have been some reaction from the boy. Bursting into fire. Lights. Something. I’m glad you’re not a demon, but I’m still… not quite sure what it is you actually are.”
“The sanctified sacrifice didn’t seem to mind me, right?”
“You’re not answering.”
“It’s a thorny question.”
“In what way?”
“You really want to know?”
“I did say I would ask when I wanted to know. I’m not sure I want to know, but I am sure I don’t want to live with not knowing.”
“All right. We had some of this discussion the first night we, uh…”
“I remember. You said you were a man with some sort of… thing? I’m not sure exactly what you meant.”
“I was born a human being, just like you. Since then, I’ve gone through some changes. I’ve been bitten by monsters, poisoned by demons, imprisoned by wizards, and lightly fried by various gods. All these things have changed me. Did I start as a human being? Yes. Am I still one? I can’t answer that honestly, because I hone
stly don’t know. Sometimes I think of myself as a monster, but that’s mainly because I have to do monstrous things from time to time. Although,” I added, thoughtfully, “I suppose acknowledging it kind of makes a case for humanity.”
“So you’re a man with… additions? The Powers have moved through you and changed you?”
“That’s… I suppose you could put it that way, yes. If you killed an evil wizard and smashed one of his magic crystals, and the smashed crystal did something magical to you so you could see perfectly in the dark forever, would you still be human?”
“Yes.”
“And the dragon you killed, if its blood splashed you and made you invulnerable to fire, would you still be human?”
“Hmm.”
“And when you fight a demon and you survive its venomous sting, you thereafter find you can smell when someone is evil, would you still be human?”
“I think is begin to see.”
“I have an advanced case of this sort of thing. There are a lot of changes from the base model, but, down underneath it all, I started life as a mortal man.”
“So you are a mortal man with changes? That’s it?”
“You seem awfully concerned about it.”
“I’m vidat to what might be a monster who wants to overthrow the Temples and destroy the gods.”
“Is that all? I can set your mind at ease on that, at least. I don’t want to destroy the Empire or the Temples. I have issues with them, but my major concerns are keeping this valley and everyone in it safe.”
“And if the Temples say you may not?”
“I care more for the safety of these people than I do for the Temples’ permission. I’ve invested more time and effort in this place than I intended, so I’m not giving up on it now. I’m not going to be run off by a bunch of self-righteous religious nuts with a penchant for meddling. If I have to raise a small mountain range between us and deal only with the kustoni, I will.”
“You don’t want to waste your efforts. I understand. Is this the only reason?”
“I also like a few of the people,” I admitted. She smiled a little and I was glad to see it.
“I believe you.”
“Good. And, to add to your level of reassurance, I have a captive Temple assassin in the dungeon. I’d like you to do the interrogating.”
“Why me?”
“Because I don’t want to be brutal, unpleasant, and rude to her.”
“So you send me?” Leisel asked.
“Not exactly. By sending you, you get to decide what tactics to use. If I do it, I’ll do something brutal, unpleasant, and rude—and I don’t like sinking to that level.”
“You frighten me.”
“Please don’t be frightened. Of all the people in the valley, I care about you the most.”
“That’s what frightens me.”
“Why?”
“I feel… I don’t know. I’m not sure I want that sort of attention.”
“How do you mean?”
“There’s something about you. You’re not like other men. I’m not talking about your powers, frightening as those are. The first wizard couldn’t do what you do, and I’m not sure all the wizards in the world could, either. I’m talking about you. The way you speak, the way you act, the way you carry yourself. I don’t know what it is. It’s attractive. It’s powerful. But it’s frightening, too. It’s like… like… like admiring the sea. It’s huge. It fills the horizon. It’s alive and powerful and vast. You don’t expect to talk to it, to have it notice you and listen to what you say. You don’t expect it to care about you. You don’t expect the waters to part and offer you their secret treasures. You don’t expect it to pour up out of its bed and stand beside you and ask you how you feel. And when it does, you don’t know what to do.”
“Interesting,” I observed, because it was. “If it will set your mind at ease, remember this: Whatever I’m doing, I’m always willing to listen to you. Hence my desire to have you take over the interrogation of the lady who tried to kill me. I don’t want you to watch me do anything ugly to her—and I don’t want to know what sort of ugly you have to use to get her to talk. In a similar artery, you can always tell me I’m going too far. If you don’t like something, we’ll discuss it. Either you’ll see why I’m doing it and approve, or I’ll agree you’re right and I shouldn’t. I’ll always try to help you, no matter what, and always listen to you.”
“And you’ll protect me from anything, because you’re a great warrior?” she asked. I thought I detected an undertone of sarcasm, possibly derision.
“Nope. You’ll protect yourself. If you need my protection, you’ll let me know.”
“Oh.”
“However,” I went on, “if something kills you, I guarantee it will not survive. I’m not so good at protecting people, but I’m one of the best at avenging. So try not to get hurt by anything you don’t want dead.”
“I’ll try.”
“Feel any better about your semi-human Mazhani?”
“Some. I’m still not comfortable with your opinions on religion.”
“That’s fair. I’m not comfortable with your religion, especially when it sends people to assassinate me.”
“I don’t think it’s typical,” she offered.
“But neither of us knows for sure. Go ask what’s-her-name. But on the subject of being religious—I won’t interfere. If you want, we can build a Temple here, which I will promptly ignore. Or we can not build one and I’ll ignore it just the same.”
“Why does that make me feel better?” she asked, cocking her head to look at me.
“I have no idea. Maybe it’s the thought I’m trying to leave the Temples alone?”
“That may be it. Speaking of which, what do you want done, besides the questioning? You’ve thrown the priests out, intimidating them in the process, and denied their request for a clean surrender. We’re likely to have a permanent siege, now, with no quarter given.”
“Good. We can take them in a straight fight.”
“We can?”
“Let me be clear on this. I have never understood the custom of maneuvering to a game-board victory. I’m much more comfortable with fighting until one side or the other breaks and runs screaming for the hills—and possibly riding after them to kill the stragglers and prevent the survivors from finding some backbone later. War is not a game. It’s a struggle to achieve victory, complete and utter. If Sarcana is going to be the House to get the demonstration, there won’t be a Sarcana when we’re done. And if the Temple decides it’s going to get shirty about it, the surviving priests can drag themselves out of the rubble and complain to Scarlett O’Hara’s fourth husband, because he might give a damn.”
Leisel licked her lips and chewed on the lower one before answering. Her hands were tight-clasped on her knee, knuckles pale.
“Do you remember what I said about powerful and attractive?”
“Vaguely. I don’t take compliments well. I have too low a self-image.”
Firebrand made a psychic noise, sort of a suppressed snort. I don’t think Leisel heard it.
“Then, do you remember what I said about how a woman has needs?”
“Yes, I recall.”
“Come with me.”
Hazir called me on my mirror. It was not a good time, so I called him back a few minutes later. My mirror has a “missed call” function, because I’ve spent a lot of time using it and tweaking it. Standard models are simpler.
“Hazir. What’s on your mind?”
“I have delivered your messages successfully and spoken with your hired warriors,” he told me. “They are eager to have a task.”
“I didn’t intend for you to be involved. This is likely to be a conflict of interest with your regular duties.”
“Oh, I shall not participate. I am simply spending some time with fellow warriors in a social setting. If they have duties later tonight, I will understand and return to my own affairs.” He glanced over my shoulder. “You are n
ot the only man with affairs demanding close attention.”
“And yours make a good alibi?”
“Let us not speak of such things here.”
“Fair. Is everyone there already?”
“It is better to be early.”
“Also fair. Let me get dressed and I’ll be right there.”
I closed the mirror and moved to dress. Leisel remained where she was, sitting up against the wall. The local beds don’t go in for headboards. They’re platforms with stuffed-bag mattresses on top. It’s like a giant pillow. A lumpy pillow.
“Do I need to know?” she asked.
“I’m going into Sarashda to supervise the destruction and robbery of several of Sarcana’s major income sources. Remember the scrying spies you set up for me? They tracked these down and I’ve looked them over. It’s going to be a bad evening for Sarcana’s finances.”
Leisel sat up straighter, eyes bright.
“So, we stand to battle?”
“I do. You have the worse duty.”
“Oh. I have to stay here and be responsible?”
“Such is the burden of the First of the valley.”
“What did you call me?”
“We’re going to separate ourselves from Sarashda. If we have enough warriors, we’ll have our own ranking system, won’t we?”
“I am unlikely to be at the top,” she warned.
“Possibly not, but if someone else has that duty, you’re free to focus on being a mahrani and my vidat. Yes?”
“Yes!” she exclaimed, but cooled quickly. “But I’m only a warrior. I wasn’t born to—”
“I’m putting you in charge. This is a warrior’s valley and we’re still under threat from Sarcana and from the kustoni—but I wouldn’t worry about either, at the moment. While we’re under threat, the warriors are in charge, and you’re in charge of the warriors. So, my technically-not-but-really-are-mahrani, you’re in charge. Clear?”
“Clear. It’s just…I’ve never been… I mean, I’ve been in command of warriors for a while, and I think I’m doing well, but I’ve never been in charge of a whole…”
